


FIC: Together Apart (R) Logan/Veronica

by HerOwlness



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Challenge Response, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-05
Updated: 2006-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 10:52:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerOwlness/pseuds/HerOwlness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These last three years, well they've been hard, but now it's time to get out of the desert and into the sun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FIC: Together Apart (R) Logan/Veronica

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers** \- Rhrough 212 (WaRgtWC).  
>  **Disclaimer** \- Rob Thomas owns the characters. I just like to play with them a little.  
>  **Thanks to** \- Seriously, I pestered so many people for help on this fanfic. Thanks to [](http://jaggedreality.livejournal.com/profile)[**jaggedreality**](http://jaggedreality.livejournal.com/) , [](http://lizzelda.livejournal.com/profile)[**lizzelda**](http://lizzelda.livejournal.com/) , [](http://lostt1.livejournal.com/profile)[**lostt1**](http://lostt1.livejournal.com/) , and [](http://shizam23.livejournal.com/profile)[**shizam23**](http://shizam23.livejournal.com/) for their help along the way. Special thanks to [](http://lex-83.livejournal.com/profile)[**lex_83**](http://lex-83.livejournal.com/) and [](http://onastick.livejournal.com/profile)[**onastick**](http://onastick.livejournal.com/) for their betaing of this beast, and to [](http://sarah-p.livejournal.com/profile)[**sarah_p**](http://sarah-p.livejournal.com/) for betaing and pretty much holding my hand throughout. All errors within are mine.  
>  **Other notes** \- Written for the [](http://loveathons.livejournal.com/profile)[**loveathons**](http://loveathons.livejournal.com/) flashback challenge and for [](http://lex-83.livejournal.com/profile)[**lex_83**](http://lex-83.livejournal.com/)'s [Ask Questions Later](http://lex-83.livejournal.com/70120.html) challenge. My challenge? _How to Secure/Spyproof a Hotel Room_.

  


**14 APRIL 2010**  
“Thanks,” a tall man says as a petite brunette holds the side door open for him so that he can exit the hotel while burdened with his numerous bags and suitcases.

“Not a problem,” she responds with a kind smile. “Drive safely.”

He nods in acknowledgement, and she slips through the door, heading for the fire stairs and room 837. Climbing up eight flights is hardly an easy task, but she knows that it’s necessary to do everything she can to maintain a low profile.

She’s not supposed to be here – she’s supposed to be visiting her family in Boston. Except she doesn’t have any family in Boston, not really.

She catches sight of the golden numbers of the room she seeks and pauses to catch her breath as she pulls a bobby pin from her hair. She quickly inserts it into the old-style door lock and twists and jiggles it until she hears the latch turn. Her pepper spray is in one hand as she kicks the door in with one brown leather boot. Scanning the room quickly for any unfamiliar figures or cautionary signs, she sees nothing that signifies any impending danger.

However, she’s aware that there could still be a surprise hiding past the first room, through the doorway, and inside the bedroom. She knows that she took every possible precaution – including taking three different cabs to get here from the train station. She did everything she could to avoid being followed, and she hopes that he did the same.

He understands the importance and sensitivity of their subterfuge and knows just how important it is that they continue with their work undetected. And if he did everything as planned, there shouldn’t be any problems.

Of course, subtlety has never been his strong point.

Stepping slowly and carefully towards the bedroom, she hears the door click shut behind her. She knows that her pepper spray will not protect her from every possibility that could be awaiting her, but at the same time, it just isn’t feasible for her to carry a gun.

She cautiously sticks her head inside the bedroom, surveying the spacious room before relaxing at the sight of one very hot man napping on the bed. Only he could sleep at a time like this.

Glancing carefully underneath the bed and inside the closet and bathroom, she moves to latch the deadbolt on the hotel room door. While searching the entirety of the suite for bugs, she runs her fingers underneath tables and chairs, around the base and shade of the lamps, and checks inside all the drawers and cabinets throughout each room.

She finishes up her task in the bedroom as he continues to sleep. Idly, she wonders how he would have been able to protect himself had someone who wished him harm entered the suite while he slept.

Her right hand is feeling the surface of the bedside table drawer, and she’s contemplating the best way to wake her sleeping comrade. Then her hand brushes what she dismisses at first as merely a piece of cloth, but, actually, upon further investigation, it appears to be a solid, velvety item. She’s well aware that listening devices rarely come in the form of solid, velveteen objects, but her curiosity gets the better of her, and she removes it from the drawer.

It’s a small, royal blue box, similar to one that might contain a ring. Cautiously, she opens it, unable to contain her gasp of surprise when she sees a ring that looks very familiar.

“I see you found your surprise, Cynthia,” the man in the bed greets her with a smirk.

“I thought you were asleep, Jacob,” she returns, taking a seat on the bed by his feet. “Why did you bring this here?”

He takes the box from her and carefully removes the ring. “I’ve missed you, Veronica,” he whispers. “Marry me?”

She laughs and nods, totally surprised by his second proposal and their re-engagement. She leans down to meet his lips in a sweet kiss.

A moment later she pulls away, a bright smile on her face as she says, “I now pronounce us husband and wife, once more.”

  


**5 MARCH 2007**  
“Goddammit, this is all my fault!” A clearly-frustrated Logan pounded his fist against the countertop.

Veronica jumped back in surprise at the loud sound. She knew that Logan was less than pleased with the verdict and that he would never hurt her, physically. So while she would very much prefer that he take his rage out on an inanimate object than on an actual person, she didn’t have to like the reminder that at times her best friend/boyfriend/lover still had problems keeping his temper under control.

Then again, she was hardly one to talk. She tended to bottle up her anger or channel it towards possibly dangerous pursuits in attempt to extract vengeance from those that she felt deserved it.

And, of course, now that Aaron had been set free by his star-struck peers, both of them would probably need anger management classes and serious amounts of therapy to deal with these new developments.

“It’s not your fault,” Veronica said tiredly as she’d told him this more than once already. “The star-struck jurors were too dazzled by your father’s celebrity and wealth to be able to see past the elaborate fabrication his high-priced lawyers concocted.”

“But I destroyed the tapes,” he persisted. “Yeah, we testified to them, and Lamb testified to them, but it didn’t have the same effect on the jury as seeing them would have.”

“And Lamb was too fucking incompetent to have an expert verify that they hadn’t been tampered with before they got stolen,” she remarked disgustedly. “He didn’t give the jury any reason to believe that they hadn’t been manipulated by some computer geek.”

“But if I hadn’t destroyed them, they could have been tested later,” he returned, leaning onto the countertop and reaching for a piece of chocolate cake.

“And if I hadn’t told Lilly about you kissing Yolanda, you never would have broken up, and your dad wouldn’t have killed her. Logan, we can sit around playing ‘What if’ all day, but it’s not going to change anything.”

“So what do you propose we do, oh wise one?” he responded, walking towards her to feed her a small piece of chocolate cake.

She savored the bite for a moment before answering, “Well, my original idea involved isolating ourselves in our bedroom, but that cake was so good, that I feel the need to mix it up a little.”

“Ice cream sundaes?” Logan asked with a teasing leer.

“Ice cream is a bit colder than what I had in mind,” she responded, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll keep you warm, baby,” he whispered huskily, causing her to laugh aloud.

“Save the cheesy come-ons for when I’m drunk enough to appreciate them, Logan,” she advised, before turning to open the fridge in search of supplies.

“Chocolate covered strawberries?”

“Did you buy any fruit last the time you went shopping?” she queried.

“I bet we could get Albertson’s to deliver some,” he suggested earnestly, and Veronica could hardly believe his total change in mood. Then again, Veronica learned early on that she could easily distract Logan – at least temporarily – with sex or even just simple innuendo.

“No, I was thinking of something involving, like, chocolate syrup,” she suggested, presenting the squeeze-bottle with a salacious smirk. She tilted her head back and squirted a gush of chocolate into her mouth. “Ooops, did I get any on my face, Logan?”

“Yeah, let me help you with that,” he offered, his voice taking on a self-sacrificial tone that forced her to resist the urge to laugh.

He started by kissing her lips, by tasting the syrupy chocolate of her kiss. But then he eagerly, willingly moved his mouth to help rid her cheeks of the sticky-sweet nectar.

She waited patiently, happily enjoying the feel of his lips on her mouth, jaw line, and nose. One arm threaded around his back, gently easing his shirt up his chest and over his back. She interrupted his cleaning mission, of course, but the moment his torso was free of the green tee, she used her other hand to douse him with a few sprays of liquid chocolate.

“Oh, Logan, look at the mess I’ve made!” Veronica stated with mock-horror. “Let me help you get cleaned up.”

Logan, however, had other plans, and he held her at arm’s length while ridding her of her orange tank. He then took the opportunity to pull her close and rub his chocolaty chest against her until-that-moment clean self.

“Logan!” she exclaimed surprised by his action, although she should have known that he’d do something to even the score. Any annoyance she might have felt faded the moment that he traced her breasts with his tongue, insistent on removing every last bit of chocolate he could find.

After a few moments of glorious torture, he raised his head from her chest and asked, “Shower?”

With thoughts of the two of them cleaning each other up before getting on to more _interesting_ activities, Veronica nodded and reached for his hand, pulling him in the direction of their bathroom.

They would have time later to think about what the day’s verdict would mean for them and their future. For now, however, she just wanted to enjoy life and the man she loved.

  


**14 APRIL 2010**  
Each time they are reunited after months apart, Veronica wants to spend time re-familiarizing herself with the man she loves. Before everything changed, she knew every slope of his face and every inch of his skin by heart. She used to be able to read his every thought in his eyes and predict his every word before it left his mouth.

Well, not his _every_ word. But a fair number of them all the same.

And it’s not that she doesn’t know him anymore. He hasn’t changed that much in the past three years.

But still, he’s changed, grown, matured. Just like she has.

She thinks of how they have both taken great measures to not look like their old selves as she runs her fingers through his shaggy black hair. Sometimes when she looks at him, she wonders what happened to the Logan she fell in love with.

But then he smiles or smirks or just gets that seductive glint in his eye, and the memories come rushing back. They had many happy moments with each other during their all-too-brief time together, but those eighteen months of love just don’t feel like enough when they’re stacked up against thirty-three months of separation.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he growls, pulling her towards him and wrapping his arms around her back.

She giggles as her gravity shifts causing her to topple on top of his strong form. He reaches for her, wanting to kiss her senseless if her guess is right, but she stalls his movement with one hand and one word. “Wait.”

Exhaling a put-upon sigh, Logan fixes an impatient look on his face, but she knows that after their four previous clandestine meetings, he’s used to this by now. She traces her fingers over the planes of his face, padding her fingertips over his jaw line and nose and lips and forehead.

“Veronica, I’m not a pile of Play-Doh waiting to be molded to your whim,” he complains, which makes laughter bubble in her chest as she presses a sweet kiss to his brow.

“No, you’re not,” she agrees amiably. “But I just want to re-remember every curve of you and exactly how your body feels.”

“Does that mean that I can feel out all your curves?” Logan asks a moment later, his teasing tone suggesting that he wants to start in on that task immediately.

“Later,” she promises, silencing him with a sweet kiss.

“Ladies first. Of course,” he grouses good-naturedly, and she knows that he doesn’t really mind waiting too much. Especially not if the way he shudders when her hands move downward is any indication.

“How much do you love me?” she questions, tracing the slope of his six-pack with her fingertips before beginning to lay open-mouthed kisses on his well-toned stomach.

“More. Than I. Can say,” he grunts out in short gasps, as her mouth slowly moves downward and her hands brush against him through the thin linen of his pants.

She reaches for the top buttonhole on his slacks and thinks about how easy it would be to just fall into bed with him again, to finally connect with him like that once more. She’s more than a little sexually frustrated, having been apart from him for the past seven months, and he clearly wants the same thing she does.

Sex. And lots of it. Now.

But at the same time, she knows from previous experience that once that happens, there’s no going back for the rest of their all-too-short time together. They’ve always had great sex together, and their time apart hasn’t changed that. She knows that once Logan’s hot and sweaty body is intertwining with her own, they won’t be able to separate long enough to do much of anything else until it’s time for her to depart.

Relaxing against the taut muscles of Logan’s lean frame, Veronica wonders if she really even _wants_ to do anything else for the rest of the next twenty-odd hours.

No, no – they have things they need to discuss, and she just wants to relax with his arms wrapped tightly around her as he catches her up on his life in rural Nebraska.

She pulls herself back up his body, relishing the feel of his hardness pressing in the most tantalizing of locations, and gently lays her head against his chest and listens to the rapid yet rhythmic beating of his heart.

  


**5 MARCH 2007**  
“We can’t let him get away with this, Veronica,” Logan stated later that night over spaghetti dinner.

“I know, Logan, but what can we do? Our forefathers didn’t make an exception for double jeopardy in the instance that a law enforcement officer was too incompetent to do his job.”

“Come on, Veronica. My dear old dad is hardly an upstanding, law-abiding citizen. Yeah, we can’t put him in jail for what he’s already done – killing Lilly, coming so close to killing you – but I know him. He hasn’t learned anything from this whole experience except that because he’s famous he can get away with murder – literally.”

“What do you have in mind?” Veronica questioned, setting down her silverware to give him her complete attention.

“We’d have to get close to him, and really gather concrete evidence of him doing something illegal – preferably repeatedly. I’ve been thinking about this, and I figure statutory rape is our best bet. There’s always plenty of girls who drop out of school and want to make it as actresses. Knowing my sex-fiend of a father, he probably knows just how to manipulate them into thinking that if they sleep with him, he’ll get them a role in his next big movie.”

“You think he’s going to keep doing movies after all this?” Veronica asked dubiously.

“You think he won’t?” he answered incredulously. “He’ll be doing the talk show circuit now that he’s free, and that’s like free publicity for any movies he gets involved in. Plus, all of America is going to want to see the wrongly accused movie star in his comeback role,” Logan finished, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Logan, we could never get close enough to him to get anything on him. He knows us, and he knows he has no reason to trust us. It just won’t work.”

“Well, _I_ can’t. I know that much. He may not love me or give a damn about me, but he at least knows what his son fucking looks like. But you? To him you’re nothing more than a scrumptious piece of ass.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably at the look she gave him, and he added, “Not that I think of you that way, my dearest darling sweetie-pie honeybunch.”

“Right,” she responded with a roll of her eyes. “So I’m supposed to get close to him and get him to seduce me? Logan, I’m not a minor anymore, and my credibility is ruined after this trial.”

“Veronica, if you think for one second that you’re going to be the bait for this plan, you’re out of your goddamned mind. I know better than anyone just how dangerous he can be. For fuck’s sake, he locked you in a refrigerator and set it on fire!” He stopped his tirade of disbelief after a moment, taking a deep breath and pulling himself together.

“I love you, you know that, but I won’t be able to be there to protect you while you do this. I know you want to get him as badly as I do, but you can’t be the bait. You’ll have to be the uninteresting and unappealing woman in the background that he doesn’t look at twice. I’d rather that he gets away with this, with everything, forever than let him hurt you again.”

“Okay,” she agreed, reaching for his hand. “I’ll do some brainstorming over the next few weeks and see what I can come up with. We’ll have to be undercover, somehow. You know as well as I do that he’ll never trust anyone by the last name of Mars again.”

  


**14 APRIL 2010**  
She misses the quiet times the most.

Had she been asked before everything changed, she would have insisted that if she were she forced to be apart from Logan for a prolonged period of time, she’d miss the hot sex most of all.

She always loved the fervent, frenetic makeup sex that they’d have after a big fight. Sometimes, she would even intentionally provoke him with a well-timed snark just so that she could ensure they would end up in a sweaty jumble of limbs before the night was out.

She thinks that sometimes he might have done that too.

Now, however, she knows that while sex is wonderful, sometimes cuddling really can be the best part.

It was easy enough to dismiss the comfort, reassurance, and relaxation that snuggling provided when she thought she had a lifetime to spend with him. Now that they have to make do with stolen moments scattered months apart, she wants to spend whatever time they have together attached at the hip.

No, not like _that_ – at least, not always. Sure, she and Logan could spend their day in the shadows having sex time and time and time again, and it would be hot and erotic and wonderful.

On the other hand, Veronica prefers to spend their fleeting moments with his arms wrapped around her as they catch each other up on everything they’ve missed in the other’s lives.

She knows that they’re hardly the typical married couple, and she honestly doubts that they ever will be. Even after their subterfuge accomplishes their goal, she doesn’t think that she could ever become Susie Homemaker or that Logan could ever be Johnny Breadwinner. More than likely, they’ll live and fight and love together, just like they did before their world changed forever with the reading of one verdict.

The important thing is that they will be together. Finally, together again.

And, really, that’s all that matters.

  


**31 MARCH 2007**  
“Logan, if this is going to work, we’ll have to assume new identities,” Veronica began one night, breaking the silence that had fallen over their apartment. “And that means that we’ll need to fake our own deaths.”

He looked up from his textbook in surprise at her sudden statement, his upcoming finals forgotten. “But your dad,” he stated. “And Wallace.”

“I know,” she replied, her heartbreak over the situation clear.

“It’s okay,” he responded. “We don’t need to go through with this. It’ll be okay. Someone else will get him the next time he breaks the law.”

He didn’t believe that, not really. And judging from the look on her face, she didn’t either.

“Fuck, Logan, if lying to yourself makes things easier, fine. Just don’t lie to me.”

“I wasn’t, I didn’t – ” He cut himself off after a moment. It was of no use to attempt to explain what he’d meant – he could see in her eyes that she knew what he’d been thinking. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded in understanding before she continued, “I’ve found two identities that I think will work for us.”

“Veronica, really, you don’t – ”

“I want this – need this – just as much as you do,” she interjected. “He killed my best friend and tried to kill my father. And after what he did to you, growing up? He needs to pay for his crimes. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

“Thank you,” he said, not really wanting her pity but at the same time understanding that there was more to her words than just pity. Yes, she wanted to avenge his wrongs, but she also wanted to punish his father for the physical and emotional injuries he had inflicted on her.

“We won’t be able to move forward until we deal with this,” she replied. “This is for both you and me – for us.”

  


**14 APRIL 2010**  
“So have you made any progress over the past six and a half months?” he asks later that evening after he places their mostly uneaten dinner outside the suite.

“Well, Cynthia Andrews was promoted last week,” she replies, knowing that he’s well-aware – just as she is – that it’s been six months and three weeks and four days since they last saw each other. Not that it’s worth focusing on. Knowing how long they’ve been apart – almost down to the minute – doesn’t make the time fly by any faster.

“To most seductive secretary?” he questions, sitting beside her on the sofa and kissing the slope of her neck.

She revels in the feel of his lips playing on her sensitive skin for a few moments before saying what she can to get him back on topic. He, after all, was the one that had brought up this subject, and she _does_ need to update him on her progress.

“Well, your dad actually prepositioned me last week,” she replies nonchalantly. “Mmm, yeah, right there. Oh, that feels nice.”

“He came onto you?” Logan asks a moment later, his voice filled with venom. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

Veronica can’t hold in her laughter at the misinterpretation she knew his hormone-addled brain would draw from her statement. He’ll probably be a little upset at her intentional misdirection, but she’s certain that she can make it up to him later.

“What the fuck are you laughing at? This isn’t funny.”

“Oh, but it is,” she gasps out between hiccups of laughter. “I said that your dad prepositioned me, Logan. He didn’t proposition me. He directed one of his assistants to send a memo _to_ me. ‘To’ is a preposition. So he prepositioned me. Get it?”

“That’s still not funny,” he complains as he settles back on the couch before pulling her into his lap.

“It was a little funny,” she teases, and he sticks out his tongue playfully. She resists the urge to capture it with her mouth and instead clears her throat to continue telling her story.

“You are now looking at the top assistant to Mr. Echolls’s scheduling secretary.”

“Wow, Cynthia. I’m so proud of you,” he replies in a bored-sounding monotone. “It’s only taken you three years to be the assistant to one of his secretaries.”

“Hey, now!” she replies. “I’ll let you know that as a top assistant, I have an assistant of my own now.”

“Good to know that dear ol’ dad is putting the money earned by swindling America to good use,” he responds dryly. At her raised eyebrow, he quickly amends his remark, saying, “I just meant that I wish it hadn’t taken this long to get you an assistant of your own, _honey_.”

She rolls her eyes at his fake-nice tone of voice, but she knows that should she voice her agreement, nothing good will come of that. She too is frustrated by how slow her mission has proceeded, by how much time she has been forced to spend apart from the man she married.

“Well, now I’ll have better access to his schedule, which will hopefully result in more productive surveillance. And I should be able to plant some bugs in his house at some point. Wiretaps, video feeds, audio recorders – the usual. You know what that means?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure you’re going to tell me,” Logan replies, with a smirk.

“It means that I am now that much closer to getting the evidence we need to put that asshole behind bars. And _that_ means that I am even closer to being able to abandon my L.A. life and finally spend the rest of my days with the man I love.”

“So you love this guy, huh?” he asks.

“Yes,” she replies before giving him a promise-filled kiss. “I love _you_ very much.”

  


**14 APRIL 2010**  
“Okay, I know that you proposed again and that I have my ring back, so this is supposed to be like a second honeymoon or something, but that doesn’t mean you need to carry me into the bedroom,” Veronica teases after her husband scoops her into his arms. “Besides, you know as well as I do that beds are wholly unnecessary when it comes to sex.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a surprise for you,” he shares, a shy smile on his face, and her heart breaks a little at the sight. She’s missed this side of him – the happy, eager-to-please lover that did whatever he could to illustrate the depth of his feelings.

“Sneaking my wedding ring into your luggage wasn’t enough?”

“I’ll have you know that one of the airline security personnel tried to extort a proposal out of me. You’re just lucky I’m so devoted to you,” he informs her with a smile as he places a kiss on her forehead.

“Yes, I’m very lucky that you didn’t allow yourself to be swept off your feet by a woman who offered to upgrade your airline seat to super-first class if you would marry her,” Veronica snarks in return.

“I will have you know that Buzzy is a very beautiful woman,” he returns. “However, I was a bit intimidated by the fact that she’s a good six inches taller than me. I tend to prefer my women short and feisty.”

“Mmmm, lucky me,” she replies.

He sets her on the edge of the bed and traces his fingers up her calves before finally freeing her feet by unzipping, removing, and then placing her leather boots on the plush carpeting. She wiggles her toes in response, trying to wave at him with her feet in a way. He lays a gentle kiss on one ankle, and his mouth slowly moves upwards. His hands, however, are reaching underneath her body, unzipping her skirt, and likely preparing to toss it into some remote corner of the room.

Not that she’ll complain. No, she’s pretty much in favor of anything that will get the both of them naked as quickly as possible at this point.

He rids her of her skirt and her slip and her underwear in one fell swoop. He may not be practicing this move much anymore – at least, she hopes not, given the circumstances – but she thinks that he’d compare the action to that of riding a bike. It’s just not something he’ll ever forget how to do.

Of course, since his mouth is working diligently at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, she’s not going to be complaining about that anytime soon. Or saying anything intelligible for that matter.

When the warmth of his mouth moves from her leg to her abdomen, she wants to yell and shout or at least say _something_. But Logan’s mouth is very skilled and thereby also very persuasive. He’s making short work of both her blouse and her bra – even though he isn’t quite able to toss both aside with a single movement. Still, it’s fast enough that she hardly registers the movement of her shirt over her skin.

Granted, the fact that he’s keeping her focus on the feel of his lips and tongue and teeth on her lower abdomen helps just a bit.

Now that she’s naked and – literally – writhing beneath him, he slowly kisses his way up her body until their mouths meet in a searing kiss, and he’s covering her chest with his own.

She’s unbelievably glad that she’d stuffed his shirt somewhere in the anteroom – probably in between the sofa cushions – but she wishes that she’d had the foresight to get him naked before coming in here.

Of course, knowing Logan, since he was so fucking determined to get her into the bedroom, onto the bed like this, he probably would have had some inane objection. Then again, if he had been naked on the couch, she probably would have fucked him right there.

She feels her nipples pebble against his chest, and she loves the sensation of his back muscles moving under her fingertips.

But then he’s moving away, and she tries to object, but only some garbled nonsense passes her lips. She tries to put her thoughts in order, to get her mouth to listen to what she’s trying to say. Which, honestly, is along the lines of “Logangetyourassbackhereandfuckmenow.” Or … something like that, anyhow.

“Do you remember our wedding night?” he asks from across the room, and she wonders what the hell he's doing over _there_ when she is naked and aroused and right _here_.

She props herself up on her elbows, pulling herself from her wonderful erotic haze as she forces herself to respond to his question. She’ll make him pay for this later, somehow.

“If you have fondue over there, I think I’m going to have to remind you that superficial burns are still not any fun, even after almost three years have passed,” she warns him.

“Not fondue. I learned my lesson, trust me. Honestly, though. Strawberries are sexy. Chocolate is sexy. Why not combine the two?”

“Because superficial burns are not any fun,” she repeats with a smirk.

“Yes, I learned. Bad newly married husband trying to be romantic,” he returns, rolling his eyes. “But that’s where your other surprise comes in.”

“Which is?” she asks warily.

“Chocolate frosting?” he tries, presenting a container with one hand.

“Really?” she queries eagerly, before blushing and feeling like an overeager adolescent. “I mean, that might be okay.”

“Oh, you try to play it so cool, Veronica Mars-Echolls,” he responds, ambling towards her as he sheds his remaining clothes and drops them onto the floor. “But I know the real you. You might say you love me, but I know you only want me for my chocolate.”

“Am I that transparent?” she teases. “I mean, Lyle, you’re the only one I’ve ever loved.”

“Lyle?” he asks, contorting his face in mock-horror.

“Leonard?” she guesses with a smirk. “Luke? Lionel?”

“I’m beginning to think that I was right, missy,” he warns. “I may need to sit over here and enjoy this chocolate frosting all by myself.”

“Awww, I’m sorry, Lar – Logan. I’m sorry, _Logan_ ,” she apologizes. “Now get that fine ass of yours over here and show me what you can do with that frosting.”

“Your wish is my command,” he complies happily, practically bouncing towards her in his excitement.

He perches on the bed beside her, and she sprawls out in what she thinks is a seductive pose, wondering what part of her he’ll paint first. He opens the container and covers one finger with gobs of frosting. He hovers over her stomach for a moment before moving his hand over her chest, and then he’s moving back down towards her legs, and just when she’s about to burst from anticipation, he licks the frosting off his finger himself.

Well, that’s just not fair at all.

She watches him carefully lick his finger clean, and she wants that same mouth working to remove frosting from her body.

Desperate for a taste, she pulls Logan’s mouth down to meet hers, and her tongue plunges into his mouth, loving the heady sensations filling her senses as she inhales Logan’s musky scent and tastes the sweet chocolate of his kiss.

“That wasn’t very nice, Veronica,” he chastises her a moment later, a playful smirk covering his features.

“ _I_ thought married people were supposed to share everything,” she returns. “You can’t just keep all that frosting to yourself.”

“As you wish,” he responds with a grin, reaching into the container and covering his hand with frosting. He smothers the gooey chocolate all over her body – from her neck down to her thighs – and she’s anxiously waiting for him to begin to taste the new sweetness of her skin.

She can feel his tongue and lips moving carefully, steadily along her skin, and she wonders if he’s doing more than just enjoying the chocolaty goodness. Not that she cares all that much. She has what she wanted – Logan’s lips teasing and playing and lavishing over her skin.

And then he’s stopping and stepping back, and she wants to wring his neck. Afterwards.

But he’s got such a proud grin on his face that she can’t help but wonder what the hell he just did. So she raises an eyebrow, knowing that she’s pretty much beyond the capacity of speech by this point and figuring that he knows her well enough to understand what she means.

“Look,” he instructs, pointing at her chest. “You’re mine.”

She nods mechanically in response. Of course she’s his. If he’s only now figuring that out, she may really need to reassess his level of intelligence.

“No, _look_ ,” he insists, pointing again, more urgently this time.

Reluctantly, she props herself up on her elbows once again and is surprised to see that Logan’s mouth was very careful in its ministrations, clearing only select parts of her skin to create a single word.

Logan’s.

The L is curving around her breasts and the S is scrunched tightly below her hipbones, but he has clearly marked her as his. And, lucky for her, he’s avoided the typical alpha-male pattern of using bodily fluids to mark his territory.

“I love you,” she whispers, raising her arms and urging him to come back towards her, closer, again.

And then he’s lapping at her chocolaty skin once more, and she almost wishes that they could have taken a picture of his artistic creation. Not that either of them could have kept it or anything, seeing as how connecting the name ‘Logan’ to either of them would be too much of a risk.

Still, his actions were sweet and romantic, and she loves him even more for them. It’s amazing how each time she thinks she loves him as much as she is capable of loving anyone, he goes and does something that only makes her love expand even more.

“Forget the chocolate,” she murmurs. “I want you. Now.”

“I believe that I was promised the chance to investigate your curves,” he teases in return. “I let you try to mold me like clay. At the very least, I get to explore your body with kisses.”

She heaves a sigh of great frustration, but she isn’t frustrated – not really. Sure, she is getting more and more aroused with each passing moment, but this is the delicious sort of torture that she misses when they are apart.

Once he’s done cleaning the delicious mess he made, he’s moving back up and whispering in her ear, “I love the way you taste.”

Before she can counter that it was the chocolate he was tasting – not her, he’s moving back down her body again and kissing the apex between her legs, and she thanks God or whoever it was that gave her this wonderful man in her life. She’ll tolerate months of solitary life for fleeting moments like these.

His oh-so-talented tongue is moving in and out, tasting her folds, and she doesn’t know how much more of this she can take. She was already close to the edge after his erotic game of frosting art, and his skilled mouth is making it difficult for her to breathe and filling her with a warm, heady feeling. It’s not much longer before she feels her muscles tighten with her impending orgasm, and she lets out a low moan of appreciation.

Once she comes back to herself, he is moving his hips between her legs, which she wraps around his back to urge him closer, faster, now. He’s moving in and out, and she loves how Logan introduced her to the world of multiple orgasms years ago.

Yeah, this is absolutely excellent.

He’s thrusting into her, the force of his body causing her to jerk around on the bed, almost like a puppet, but she doesn’t care and hardly even notices. All she cares about is Logan’s long, hard cock, and how it’s causing her temperature to rise again.

And then she’s shouting something – likely unintelligible – and while her cognition of her surroundings is hazy, she’s peripherally aware of Logan’s continuous motion until he jerks into her one last time before collapsing heavily on top of her. While he’s nearly twice her size, she finds the weight of his body comforting, soothing. She knows that with him nearby, she’s safe, protected.

“I love you,” she whispers before nipping his earlobe lightly with her teeth, which elicits a low groan from him.

“Love you too,” he mumbles, shifting onto his side and pulling her into his arms.

Great sex followed by dozing in Logan’s loving arms. Life just doesn’t get any better than this.

  


**19 MAY 2007**  
“Yeah, we’re on our way back to Neptune, Wallace. We’re, what, maybe halfway there?” Veronica spoke into her cell phone, aiming the last question at her companion.

“Something like that,” he agreed, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Yes, Wallace, Logan is treating me well,” she replied to her step-brother’s apparent question. “Yes, Wallace, we had a good honeymoon.”

In his opinion, ‘good’ was putting it mildly. He’d whisked Veronica away to one of his family’s many vacation homes – this one along the Oregon coast – so that they could have a week alone together before they put their plan into action.

As he listened to Veronica laugh and joke with Wallace, he thought back on the past two weeks. They’d had so much to do, and it sometimes felt like they didn’t have enough time with which to work. Of course, since they knew that they only had a limited amount of time remaining before everything changed, it made the days fly by that much faster.

He’d spent the last few weekends flying to two different parts of the country, gathering the proofs of identity and age that they would need to take on their new personas. Birth certificates had been easy enough to get, but their state ID cards had taken a little more work. However, after a little finagling and loophole-searching, they both carried Idaho state ID cards that featured their new appearances.

His hair was a deep, dark black now, and he wore contacts that colored his pupils the hue of the sea. His fingers ran over his jaw line as he continued to drive down the coastal highway, and he was still surprised at the feel of the stubbly facial hair.

It had taken Veronica some getting used to as well. After he had stopped shaving, she giggled in a very un-Veronica-like manner every time he kissed her, complaining that he was tickling her skin. Of course, since it would have been out of character to do otherwise, he followed such statements by physically tickling her with his fingers until she was squirming beneath him.

And from there, it wasn’t long until she was more _writhing_ beneath him – still, perhaps, instigated by his fingertips, but with a whole different aim in mind. To please, rather than to tease; to love, rather than to play.

He glanced over at her, still unable to believe how different she looked with long brown hair. He’d seen her undercover before, wearing one of the many wigs that she and her dad always had stored away for those sorts of situations, but when she emerged from the bathroom with her mousy brown hair, he had felt a small part of him die inside.

She had looked tentative and nervous and totally unlike the Veronica he had grown to love over the past few years. He wasn’t sure if that was because she was uncertain about her new appearance or if she was simply trying to put on the persona she would be assuming before too long.

He’d swallowed his own reservations about the change, knowing that it was necessary for what they wanted to do. He told her he loved her and that she was beautiful, which caused her to smile. And to him, her smile could never _not_ be beautiful. _She_ could never not be beautiful.

The pitter-pat of falling raindrops distracted him from his train of thought, and he nudged Veronica, letting her know that it was time to put their plan into action.

He almost didn’t want to go through with it since he knew how much it would affect her – no matter how much she might insist otherwise. Yeah, the basis for this idea had been borne from her own imagination, but she was only doing all of this to help him with what he now viewed as his responsibility.

“Logan, slow down a little on the curves,” she directed him, before returning to her phone call. “No, Wallace, it’s fine. It’s just raining a little.”

“Very little,” he countered, as they’d rehearsed. “It’s nothing to worry about, Veronica. My baby can handle it.”

“Yeah, so we should be home tomorrow,” Veronica continued. “We’ve got maybe seven or so hours left until we’re back in Neptune if we drive nonstop. Still, I think we’re probably going to stop for the night somewhere along the way. If Logan had been able to separate himself from his car for a week, we would have been able to fly to Oregon and been back home already.”

“I’ll make it up to you tonight,” he promised, both of them knowing that the real reason they elected to drive was so that they had the ability to put their plan into motion. They would never have a better opportunity than this, and they knew that they had to make the most of it.

“Promises, promises,” she replied silkily before laughing at Wallace’s likely disgusted reaction. “C’mon, Wallace. I _am_ a married woman now.”

She looked at him and nodded once, then twice, then three times. It was the sign he was waiting for, and he hit play on the CD player, causing the sound of screeching tires to echo over his car’s top-notch stereo system. He quickly brought the X-Terra to a stop by pulling over to the side of the road, and Veronica started to accompany the sound effects with a few girly screams of her own. He did his part and shouted a few choice curses and waited for the screeching sound to end and follow with the noise of metal crunching and crashing.

In the midst of this fusion of sounds, Veronica disconnected her phone call, leaving Wallace to wonder what had happened to her, to them. Her anguish over the action was clear, and Logan wished that things could be different, that she didn’t have to do that.

“It’s still not too late,” he offered as he unbuckled his seat belt and reached for the supplies he’d put in the backseat.

She turned to him, her face locked in stony determination. “Let’s do this,” she said, ignoring his offer.

Removing a six-pack of beers from the bag, Logan carefully placed the cardboard box on its side just a few inches away from the foot pedals. He watched as Veronica threw bottles of rum and vodka and whiskey against the inside of his car, wincing inwardly at the alcohol bath his car was experiencing.

Not that he hadn’t ever spilled a drink or two or three or ten in the X-Terra before. His family’s cleaning staff had more than a little experience trying to wash a variety of ethanol-based substances from the upholstery. He was pained by the sight before him more because he knew what was coming next.

True enough, everything that would be happening was necessary for things to go as planned. He knew that, understood that. At the same time, though, he wished that there was another way – a way that didn’t involve the ruination of his dear and dependable X-Terra.

Once Veronica was satisfied that she’d soaked the vehicle with enough accelerants to really get a good fire going, he climbed back into the driver’s seat and started the engine one last time. He carefully shifted the car into drive and used a golf club to continue to depress the brake pedal as he carefully exited the vehicle.

Confident that no one was coming or going in either direction to see them at that particular point in time, Logan removed the pressure from the brake and nudged the case of beer just enough to tip onto the accelerator, pushing down on it with full force. His car took off quickly, and it wasn’t much longer before he watched his yellow vehicle careen over the edge of the road and down into a nearby ravine.

The flames started slowly, but it wasn’t long before the fire burned in a multitude of colors. It was hypnotizing almost, watching them flicker in the setting sun.

“Come on, Logan,” Veronica urged, pulling him by the hand and leading him away from the site of the crash. “We need to get out of here before any help arrives.”

She was right, as usual, so he obliged and followed her across the not-so-busy freeway as raindrops fell upon their faces.

“You remember the plan, right?” she asked a moment later, as they trudged through the forest towards the used car lot where, while on their way to Oregon, he’d paid cash for a worn-down Honda.

Their honeymoon had really made the bulk of their planning so much simpler, even though they hadn’t married simply for convenience’s sake. At least, that wasn’t his reasoning.

After he and Veronica got back together in the fall of their freshman year of college, he knew that what they had together was real and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Of course, the average college freshman doesn’t just go out and get married, so they talked about it occasionally but planned to wait until after graduation.

But then his father was acquitted, and they weren’t content to leave things as they were, and Veronica came up with her brilliant-as-usual plan.

The only downside to said plan? It wouldn’t be too much longer before Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars ceased to exist.

He knew that they could have gotten married later, after everything, as their alter egos, but he wanted to be married to Veronica, to the girl who turned his world right-side up again.

So he’d proposed a few days later – hiding a representative Cracker Jack ring in a piece of that sinful chocolate cake she adored so much before surprising her with the real thing moments later.

Their wedding had been rushed, had needed to be rushed given the timeline they were working with. He was pretty sure her father thought that she was pregnant.

She wasn’t – they were always so careful about that – but he could understand how that might appear to be the case.

Of course, given Mr. Mars’s investigative skills, he would probably – almost certainly – find the traces of alcohol in the X-Terra and assume that Logan was driving under the influence and that was what caused the crash.

Veronica’s family didn’t love him all that much to begin with, but he didn’t care. Veronica was the only one that mattered to him. Her dad and step-mom and step-brothers could curse his name for the rest of their lives for all it mattered to him. As long as he still had Veronica in his life, everything would be okay.

“I remember the plan,” he agreed. “And you do remember that you are not – under _any_ circumstances – to use yourself to set a trap for my father, right?”

She nodded and didn’t say a word, allowing them to walk side-by-side in silence for a few more minutes.

“Let’s go over the code one more time,” she suggested, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They’d been over this time and time again over the past two weeks. He knew how she would word her messages, and he understood how to interpret them.

But he also realized now, looking at her, that she was just as nervous about this, about being apart and trying to take on a Hollywood icon, as he was. She just wanted to be certain that this was going to work, that they weren’t going to lose track of each other somewhere along the way.

Also, no matter what her ID might say, she was still the same Veronica Mars at heart, and she always needed something to fixate on, if only to keep her mind off more potentially troubling subjects.

“I’ll be heading out to a house I just purchased in Nebraska,” Logan began. “I have subscriptions to multiple newspapers coming to the house every day. When you want to meet, you’ll place an ad in a given paper – the _Miami Herald_ will be first. I’ll be able to pick out your message by your use of alliteration and one part of our pseudonyms. The next day, you’ll place another ad, and between those two ads, you’ll tell me when and where you want to meet.”

“Exactly,” she replied, sounding quite self-satisfied with the innovative plan she’d been able to concoct over the past few weeks. “And what will you do next?”

“I will then reserve hotel rooms for two nights – the night you want to meet as well as the night before – under multiple aliases to throw off anyone who might be trying to track us down. I will check into one of the rooms and put an ad into the same paper, using the same code that you did, telling you what room to enter that night,” he continued, parroting back the same information she’d had them go over time and time again. A slow smirk spreading across his features, he finished, “And then, when you arrive, I’ll tackle you to the floor, kiss you senseless, and make sure you know how much I missed you.”

“I’m going to miss you too, Logan,” she told him, squeezing his hand gently.

  


**15 APRIL 2010**  
Logan misses her most during the quiet times, when his mind finally gets a chance to slow down and relax and realize that everything that was once good about his life has since disappeared.

He doesn’t know what he misses most about her. Honestly, if he were forced to choose, he’d still say that he misses everything. It’s a bit of a cop-out, he supposes, but that doesn’t make the sentiment any less true.

He does miss everything about her – her light laughter, her sweet smile, her know-it-all smirk. Sometimes, though, he thinks that he misses her blonde hair the most.

He understands that she had no choice but to dye her hair. His father may be an impulse-driven maniac, but he’s not so stupid as to not recognize her if she were standing before him unchanged.

So she grew her hair out well past her shoulders and dyed it a very unspectacular shade of brown. She also has a pair of tortoise-shell glasses with plastic lenses that she dons to further mask her true identity and to better perpetuate her introverted façade.

Veronica Mars, introverted.

He never thought he’d be using those words in the same sentence.

Really, everything he misses about her amounts to one simple thing. He simply misses her, all of her, all of the time.

He misses her even now, when she’s lying silently beside him. While he loves the fact that she’s here, with him, finally, again, these stolen moments always seem to have a black cloud hanging over them. He’s unable to fully enjoy their time hidden away together because no matter how wonderful it is to have Veronica by his side, he knows it’s only temporary. He can’t even really look forward to a future with Veronica because he finds himself honestly unable to believe that they’ll ever reach their happily ever after.

The good things in his life never seem to last, and Logan doesn’t see why his marriage should be any different. After all, what’s to keep his father from killing another woman he loves next week, or the week after that?

She’s resting quietly in his arms, and he marvels that she can sleep at all in circumstances such as these.

She’ll be leaving in the morning, going back to her life as Cynthia Andrews, pretending that she didn’t die at the age of five from whooping cough. And he’ll return to his own solitary life as Jacob Davis, trying to ignore the fact that shellfish led to the end for his alter ego.

Coincidences are one thing. Ones that hit a bit too closely to home are a whole other story.

Logan wants to go back to Los Angeles with Veronica. He wishes he would never have to be apart from her again. But, given the circumstances, he knows that they don’t have any real choice but to stay the course. They can’t continue on with their temporarily interrupted marriage until after his father is finally imprisoned.

Every time they meet so surreptitiously in a hotel room like this, he wants to ask her to give up on her quest – technically their quest – so that they can spend the rest of their lives hiding away from the world _together_. When they had first started, he’d had confidence in their plan; he believed that they could accomplish their goal in a few short months – maybe a year, tops – and then continue on with only a brief lapse in the life they’d planned on together.

Three years have now passed, and there hasn’t been nearly enough progress to give him hope that this matter will be resolving itself anytime soon.

He misses her all the time – especially when she’s right there beside him. He knows it’s a bit masochistic of him, but when they spend time with each other, he can’t help but think that they’re wasting their limited time together. But he also can’t think of anything that would be a more productive use of their time.

Making love, talking, snuggling – no matter what they do, he can’t help but feel the sands of time slipping through his fingers. He’s losing his hold on the only person in the world who fucking matters to him, and what’s more, she has this whole other life that he can only hear about anecdotally.

On his bad days, alone in his quiet and lonely house, he wonders idly if she has a boyfriend in her other life, if she has someone to love her in Los Angeles. Deep down though, he knows that she wouldn’t do that. Her character is formed from a strange amalgamation of morals, and loyalty has always been one of them.

Shit, she lost all of her friends defending her father and dedicated over a year to finding the murderer of her fallen friend.

And now? She’s given up her family and friends for him of all people – and all to help him with the mission that he suggested.

So no matter how much he may want to forget the whole thing, he knows that he could never ask her to do that. She has given up so much for him and for his cause already. To give up their plan without succeeding means that each of her sacrifices would have been for nothing. They faked their own deaths, assumed false identities, and have done a number of other legally questionable things. No, returning to their old lives is not an option.

He knows that they have to continue on. She may be willing to oblige his request, but she would eventually hate him for it, for convincing her to give up her true identity to obey his whim.

He loves her. And on the good days, he knows that she loves him too. Nevertheless, as the years pass slowly by and he is still unable to freely contact the woman he loves, he wonders how much longer he can survive without her by his side.

  


**15 APRIL 2010**  
In the morning, she wakes with a smile on her face. She stretches out her toes and wonders what on earth has made her so fucking happy.

She moves her arms, meaning to stretch them above her head, but instead comes into contact with his strong arms, and it all comes rushing back.

After almost three years apart, she’s become so accustomed to sleeping alone, to being alone. Waking up beside the one she loves is no longer second nature or presumed. Spending a night with Logan or Jacob or whatever the hell she should be calling him is a treat – a break from the mundane life Cynthia leads.

She looks at the clock, and her heart falls when she realizes she has exactly forty-five minutes to make it to the bus station.

She shifts slightly, causing his arms to tighten reflexively around her.

She loves this feeling, loves him. She doesn’t want to leave him behind, knowing that it will be months before she can have another stolen night with her husband.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, his voice still groggy from sleep.

“I need to get to the bus station,” she responds, regret tingeing her voice. The bus depot is the last place she wants to be heading when she could be spending the day in bed with Logan.

“Oh,” he says, releasing her from his embrace and moving to get out of bed himself.

She slowly reaches for her clothes, wanting to make their last moments together last as long as possible.

Veronica wants to stay with him, to just let Cynthia Andrews disappear as she tries to reclaim the life that she lost when his X-Terra sped into the ravine and burst into flames. Things were simpler then.

She was happy then.

On her bad days, she thinks about ways that she can convince Logan to just give up their quest to punish his father for his crimes throughout the years. She wants Aaron to pay for what he’s done just as much as Logan does, but at the same time, she doesn’t want said retribution to come at the cost of their relationship.

Still, she knows that by giving up on their plan, she might as well be giving up on her marriage. This is something that he wants, something that is important to him. He hasn’t said it in so many words, but she knows he’s frustrated with their lack of progress over the last three years.

Frustration after so long is understandable and probable, even. She knows that. And wanting to just give up on this, on anything, is totally out of character for her. She knows that Logan would be surprised at her lack of tenacity and would maybe even be a little disappointed in her.

She doesn’t want to disappoint him. She loves him. But it’s because of her love for him and because of how much she hates spending these months apart from him that she wants to just be done with this whole thing.

Veronica knows that this is important to him, that giving up on this will probably result in him resenting her for the fact that his father is still a free man. So she’ll stick with this and go in to work tomorrow, pretending to be someone that she’s not as she does a job she doesn’t really want to do, just like she has for the past three years.

She loves Logan, more than she could possibly begin to put into words. And she’d rather have just the few days together each year than risk losing him entirely.

Fully dressed now, she approaches the man who will always rule her heart and her head and stands up on her tiptoes to kiss him fully on the mouth.

“Goodbye, Logan,” she whispers, her fingers slipping her wedding ring off her left hand. “Keep this safe for me,” she instructs, placing it in his palm and folding his fingers over it.

As Cynthia, she can’t have or wear a wedding ring. When they went undercover, it was determined that creating a history for husband – let alone a paper trail – would be far too complicated to undertake. So Cynthia is an introverted recluse who never dates and rarely socializes.

But that means that Veronica’s love and feelings for her husband must be shoved deep down within her heart so that she can play the part she’s come to know all too well over the past three years.

She wishes that Logan would ask her to stay, tell her that he doesn’t care what happens to his father anymore – that he just wants to spend the rest of his days by her side.

He won’t though. She knows this just as well as he does. Still, every time they go through this ritual, she can’t help but hope that maybe this time will be different, that maybe this time he’ll say the words she wants to hear so badly.

“Keep your eyes on the _St. Louis Post Dispatch_ ,” she whispers into his ear before stepping back and heading out the door.

She can do this. She’s done this four times before.

She tells herself that this will be the last time she’ll have to say goodbye to the man she married. She tells herself that this will be the last time she walks away from the only thing that matters to her anymore. She tells herself that she will find the evidence she needs as soon as she returns to Los Angeles.

She tells herself these things every time. She doesn’t really know if she believes them anymore.

She wants to believe them. But she also knows that nothing is as disappointing as false hope.

She and Logan _will_ make Aaron pay for his crimes. There’s no two ways about that, at least. Everything that matters to her depends on that, so she will make it happen.

She and Logan will be together. They will find their happily ever after.

She just hopes that it will be sooner, rather than later.  
 **END**

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, this is my epic [**Ask Questions Later**](http://lex-83.livejournal.com/70120.html)/[](http://loveathons.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://loveathons.livejournal.com/) **loveathons** piece. I didn't plan on letting it get to be quite this long, but it's easily the longest fanfic I've written in this fandom.
> 
> A few more disclaimer notes – the image transitions were made with Adobe Photoshop 7.0 (with the images coming from [IMDb](http://www.imdb.com), [JD.com](http://Jason-dohring.com), and [VM Caps](http://www.vm-caps.com)). The fic summary is an adaptation of the lyrics from "On Your Porch" by the Format, which is like *perfect* song for this fic. I also borrowed the concept of taking on the identities of individuals who died young from episode 2x15 of Numb3rs (“Running Man”).
> 
> Also, to anyone who's wondering what Tom and Trina would look like together, [](http://lostt1.livejournal.com/profile)[**lostt1**](http://lostt1.livejournal.com/) was kind enough to [](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v234/mousebumples/trina-tomlostt1.jpg)**create[this manip](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v234/mousebumples/trina-tomlostt1.jpg) for better illustration**.
> 
> There were a few things that I wish I would have been able to mention in more detail in the fic, but since it was long enough already, and I didn’t want to exposit everything under the sun, [**I’m giving more details on their newspaper communication and how it worked**](http://community.livejournal.com/herowlness_fic/16782.html). Of course, if there’s something you’re curious or confused about, feel free to ask – I'm sure I have an explanation written in my pages of notes.
> 
> And the whole point of putting the longer explanation of everything elsewhere was to keep this short. And I can't even do that. (sorry!)
> 
> Anyhow, thanks for reading. I'd love to hear what you think – what worked, what didn't work, whatever.
> 
> Feedback is like love and chocolate – and greatly appreciated!


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